


All For The One Shots

by makebelieveanything



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Additional Tags in Chapter Notes, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Neil being a smartass, Post-Canon, rooftop confessions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23437678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makebelieveanything/pseuds/makebelieveanything
Summary: Prompt: "You can have my heart if you have the stomach to take it." Andreil post canon.
Relationships: Jeremy Knox/Jean Moreau, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 10
Kudos: 76





	1. Don't Look Down

**Author's Note:**

> I've been part of this fandom for a couple years now, but I've never written or posted fics to it. Shout out to [DeyaAmaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeyaAmaya) for the moral support and the prompt recommendation. I could never have done this without you, thank you!

It’s been two years since Neil met Andrew, since he decided to stop running and let someone have his back, his trust, and if he was being honest his heart. It had taken over two years for him to figure it out, but Neil knew now, on a fundamental level, that his heart truly did belong to Andrew. It had never belonged to anyone else; Neil’s unsure it had ever been his own to begin with. 

That was the crux of the problem though, Neil realized his heart belonged to Andrew; he also recognized that was the very reason Andrew continued to remind Neil, “210% Josten,” and, “I hate you,” which is what Andrew had thrown at him before escaping up to the roof. Consequently it was also Neil’s justification for not following him.

They shared a bed most nights now, Andrew curling up against the wall, the meager inches of space a single dorm bed allowed left between them as an invisible barrier. Their hesitant touches had moved past an obligatory, “yes or no,” except for the days when shadows lined their irides. Other small things evolved over the years: Neil knew exactly how much sugar to put in Andrew’s morning coffee; Andrew cut up fruit in his bowls of ice cream so Neil would have something to share with him while they watched TV; their clothes had intermixed so thoroughly that the closet was now separated by clothing type rather than owner. 

On most days Neil could withstand the sharp words, understanding they were Andrew’s best way of divulging he felt something. On most days Neil was content with the plateau of familiarity they’d reached after years of patience and missteps. Today was not most days. 

Today Neil was antsy, aggravation and fear running electric surges down his skin and through his finger tips, niggling at his resolution, coercing him to run now before he fell over the edge and couldn’t come back. Today’s shadows were not the product of nightmares riddled with blood and death, nor were they triggered by the desire to escape; they were specters of old insecurities, haunting his confidence and slowly deteriorating Neil’s resolve.

Neil was on a mission. Instead of slipping on his running shoes and taking off around the block like he itched to, Neil grabbed his phone and an extra sweatshirt as the sun began to drop below the horizon and marched himself up the stairs to the roof. Neil knew Andrew heard him the minute the door swung open, but the blonde continued to face forward, legs dangling off the ledge, heels knocked against the brick siding in a rhythmic drumming. 

Neil sidled up beside Andrew, but sat with his back to the roof’s edge, draping the sweatshirt over the ledge between them. Neil settled his head back, his eyes gazing up along the side of Andrew’s arm and catching the occasional flutter of his golden hair in the evening breeze. Neil was about to throw himself off an emotional ledge, he had no compunction to dangle his physical body over one as well. 

“I can hear you thinking,” Andrew said, continuing to stare at the horizon, a half spent cigarette dangling from two fingers. 

“Truth for truth?” Neil asked in response, hoping reinstating their original deal would re-instill some of his wavering confidence. When Andrew didn’t answer right away, Neil tilted his head to catch Andrew staring at him, his face an open book for someone who recognized how to read it. The slight furrow in his brow was an indication of his confusion, but the meager tilt of his head in Neil’s direction a clear invitation to continue; Neil had always been excellent with languages.

“I need to know what this is,” Neil said. 

“This is nothing,” Andrew replied automatically, not even bothering to clarify Neil’s meaning. 

“Don’t lie to a liar,” Neil shot back. 

“I told you a long time ago, I’m not your answer,” Andrew said, his hazel eyes reverting back to the sunset as he brought the cigarette to his lips. The plume of smoke floating up into the pink hued sky mingled with the wisps of evening clouds.

“I’m not someone you need to protect anymore; I don’t need you to fix me. I can take care of myself just fine. I don’t need you,” Neil retorts, his anxiety filtering through his words sharp as knives. They had always been a balancing act, one stiff breeze away from carving each other into pieces. “I don’t need you Andrew, but I want you,” Neil said. 

Andrew’s honey colored eyes turned to Neil’s, his cigarette hanging limply in his hand. “No you don’t,” Andrew responds.

“Oh, so now you know my thoughts now? Tell me, when did you become an expert on interpreting my feelings when you can’t even voice your own.” Neil knew he was being harsh, he knew the green that started to bleed into Andrew’s gaze was a spark of anger, his self preservation rising up to eviscerate Neil’s assumptions. 

So Neil said the only thing he could think of, the challenge rising in his own eyes to match Andrew’s, “You can have my heart if you have the stomach to take it.”

A few agonizing seconds pass before Andrew responds, “And what happens when you decide giving it to me was a mistake?”

“It’s always been yours, Andrew, you can run from it if you like, but I’m done running,” Neil replied.

When no response was forthcoming, Neil pushed himself up from the wall, turning one last time to see Andrew’s body silhouetted against the sky, the pastel hues catching against his blond hair, the softness blurring along his broad shoulders a direct contrast to the deep, endless, black of his t-shirt and arm bands.

Neil makes it as far as the door, his hand on the cold handle when he hears Andrew speak.  
“Neil.”

“Yes?” he asks, unwilling to turn around, afraid of what he’ll encounter in Andrew’s face if he looks.

“Neil,” Andrew says again, a hint of something softer coloring his vowels.

Neil turns, and finds himself bracketed against the door, Andrew’s arms splayed on either side of his head; the sheathed knives enclosed in the ever present armbands scant millimeters away from Neil’s cheeks, yet Neil remains frozen. Andrew leans in, his forehead stalling so close Neil could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the smoke lined breath from his lips ghosting over Neil’s own like a caress. 

“You already have mine too,” Andrew whispers against Neil’s skin before pressing a soft kiss to his lips, sealing his promise into Neil’s mouth.


	2. Ocean Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Reflections in the water help to clear my mind, stretching out before me to the other side."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jerejean post canon, inspired by the song Missing by Seafret, summary also taken from song.
> 
> Additional Tags: mentions of past torture and injuries

The crisp white sand of the California beach bit at the soles of Jean’s feet, rubbing roughly against the soft unblemished skin, one of the few places on Jean’s body that wasn’t covered in bruises, cuts, burns, and other scars. He shivered involuntarily as the cool salt water submerged his ankles, tickling at the hair of his calves. 

It was hours past nightfall, the sun well hidden below the neverending expanse of the ocean before him. The vast darkness should have reminded Jean of Evermore, with its infinite black walls, black floors, and black jerseys, but all he could feel was relief. The restless waves crashed against the shore, sucking shells and sand back on an inhale only to push them back across the beach. Again and again. 

If he had any experience in the emotion, he’d believe this was what possibility, maybe even hope, felt like. An open canvas, the tantalizing cry of the ocean, and the distant call of the unknown. 

Lost in reverie, it wasn’t until Jeremy appeared at Jean’s side, panting and gasping for air, his hands pushing his sweaty bangs from his brow, that Jean realized he wasn’t alone. 

“Jean, what the hell, are you okay?” Jeremy asked breathless, eyes scanning Jean up and down as if he could distinguish new injuries from the pre-existing ones that already littered Jean’s exposed skin.

“I’m fine,” Jean responded, extracting his eyes from the hypnotic rhythm of the waves and turning them on Jeremy. 

Jeremy huffed, hands falling on his hips, seemingly oblivious to the water that seeped over his sneakers undoubtedly soaking through his socks, “And may I ask, why exactly, you’re standing here at 3am staring at the ocean like you’re about to just walk in and not come back out?” 

“I just needed some fresh air,” Jean shrugged, nonchalance rolling off his shoulders. 

“Needed some fresh air? Seriously? Man, and that means you can’t answer your phone, or step out on the balcony, or at least have the decency to tell me you were going to leave in the middle of the night so I didn’t wake up to an empty dorm room?” Jeremy demanded, his fingers pulling at the blonde curls stuck to the nape of his neck. 

“I did not realize you would be concerned,” Jean responded, “I am sorry for the inconvenience.”

“ _Inconvenience_ ,” Jeremy spluttered, barely getting the word out before he was stalking down the beach towards what Jean barely registered as a bike. He returned quickly, bike in tow, the tires caked with sand and the seat damp from where it had been unceremoniously dumped.

Jeremy stopped in front of Jean, his expression smoothing out and his voice softening, “Jean, you’re not an inconvenience to me. I was worried about you, Alvarez and Laila were worried.” 

Taking a deep breath, Jeremy plowed on before Jean could obfuscate with his usual platitudes, “You disappear like that and we assume you’ve been kidnapped. I was giving you one more hour then I was reporting you to the police as a missing person.”

“Why would you do that?” Jean asked, his french accent mostly hiding the bewilderment coloring his words. 

“Because you’re a Trojan now, you’re one of us. I know it’s only been a couple weeks, and we don’t expect you to pretend like your past didn’t happen, but we’re a team. And you’re my friend; which means I will always come find you, no matter what,” Jeremy responded. 

Jean’s mouth opened as he tried and failed to compose a suitable answer. He’d never been loved unconditionally, unequivocally; not even his own parents, or Kevin Day, had cared enough to not give him away and leave him behind, yet here was Jeremy Knox, Trojan Captain, California golden boy, his hair a mess, shoes only half tied in his obvious rush out the door, promising him friendship. Berating him out of concern for his well being. 

Jean couldn’t help the soft smile that spread across his face, the distant lights from the road above the beach barely illuminating the sheen in his eyes. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, unsure what else he could offer in reply.

“You’re welcome, you goof,” Jeremy responded, his face shattering open in a smile that rivaled the sun in Marseille on a summer’s day. “Now grab your shoes, I’ll let you hop on my handlebars once we get over the hill.” 

Jeremy gestured to the pile of shoes and socks Jean had left a couple feet up, out of the way of the incoming tide. 

“Let’s go home, Jean.” Jeremy said. 

Jean left one last glance behind him at the roiling waves, and bid the open ocean goodbye, for now, as he headed for the hill and solid ground. 

So that’s what it felt like. 

_Hope._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk to me on tumbler at [makebelieveanything](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/makebelieveanything)

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on tumblr at [ makebelieveanything](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/makebelieveanything)


End file.
